Some Good Things Never Last

Today is May 15, and it is 4am here in Manila and 4pm in Ontario. I am wide awake. I was trying to write this blog last May 12, my last day in Canada. Ed and Ruth went to work while the kids went to school. I was home alone. Perfect for writing a blog. But after almost an hour in front of the computer, not a single key was clicked, not a single word was typed. This is what I hate about vacations like this one. It will always have to end. And it will always have to end with my number one enemy -- GOODBYES!

Ed and Ruth together with Doods and Erika left for Canada five years ago. When I left to visit them last April 14, I was to be the first one from both sides of the family to see them. I was bursting with excitement. Though I was the one who administered the Sacrament of Marriage to them in 1998, I never got to be with them to get to know Ed better. I was already preparing myself then for pastoral life. When the kids were born I was already in Paco Parish, and eventually moved here in Comembo. Their occasional visits during Christmas and fiestas were also not enough to bond with their kids. And so just thinking that I would be with them for almost a month filled me with unexplainable joy and anticipation.

All the while I thought it will just be a simple vacation for me -- babysitting for the kids and staying at home most of the time. The only big thing I was looking forward to was the trip to Niagara Falls. But Ed and Ruth had other things in mind. Having been very busy with their respective careers (Ed as accountant in Skyservice and Ruth, the perpetual banker in Royal Bank of Canada) for the last 5 years, they have not been to so many places themselves. They took my vacation as an opportunity to explore. Armed with GPS and maps downloaded from the internet, we went from one road trip after another (and that's excluding my side trip to Windsor). We explored Niagara and Niagara-on-the-Lake for 4 days, prayed at the Martyr's Shrine and visited St. Marie-among-the-Hurons in Midland, went shopping at St. Jacob's County while side tripping to the Mennonite farms, visited Toronto's attractions (ROM, CN Tower, Casa Loma, Toronto Zoo), had an unforgettable dinner at Medieval Times, went out on a picnic at Port Credit, and so on and so forth. My camera was restless, taking 652 photos in all excluding the short video clips. Everything was much more than what I expected. And with so much happy memories, the more the foreboding goodbyes became difficult.

When I arrived at the Incheon Airport in Seoul, South Korea for our stopover, I got to check my email. Ruth sent this one: "eto, para kong tanga, naghihilik na si papa ko saka tulog na yung dalawang bata, eto ko, umiiyak. ayaw ko talagang umiyak sa airport, kasi syempre, alam kong malulungkot ka din. nabasa ko na yung sulat mo. pati yung sa dalawa. walang anuman. masaya kami at nakapunta ka dito, saka na-enjoy mo naman bakasyon mo. babalik ka ulit ha...thank you kasi napasaya mo kami ng mga bata kahit sandali. alam kong palagi kaming kasama sa mga dasal mo. salamat ng marami."

Then when I checked my email yesterday this one was waiting for me also: "kanina nung pag pick-up ko dun sa dalawa, sabi ko, wala ng uncle father. sabi ni doods, it's sad. yakap naman si girl ko, sabi nya, you still have us. o di ba? tapos nung nagdinner na kami, sabi ni girl, there's no more uncle father sitting on that chair; there's no more uncle father texting on the couch; there's no more uncle father using the laptop; there's no more uncle father playing the wii; ang last, there's no more uncle father.. tapos sabi ni ed sa kanila, at least nga daw, you got to know them.yung tingin nung dalawa, confused. sabi ni ed, kasi when you were small you hardly saw uncle father. at least now nakasama nyo sya ng matagal. at syempre, waiting silang magpunta ka ulit dito or makauwi kami dyan, kasi nagpromise ka daw na ipapasyal mo sila sa beaches."

This is what I don't like about vacations and goodbyes. There's a gnawing feeling of emptiness that is left behind. There's an empty space. Like the space that you find in an old mailbox...or between stars.